anyway, he got into a little scrape a while back and had a gash on his arm. he never seemed to be bothered by it (because he's just a sweet cat, so playful), no limping, no cringing when i touched his arm; i thought i would just let it heal and skip the vet. well, it wasn't healing, so finally i took him to the vet and found out it had got infected. i know, gross. anyway, antibiotics didn't help, so finally, we had to take him in to cut away the infected part and stitch him up. traumatic.
kirk dropped him off in the morning, they put him under, shaved him and stitched him up. later that day i went to pick him up. i just felt so awful, his arm looked horrible and the stitches ran the length of his arm! i was looking at him and i noticed that his whiskers had been shaved! here's the conversation (my thoughts are in italics):
"what happened to his whiskers?" i said to the vet.
"what do you mean?" said the vet to me.
"his whiskers have been cut."
"i don't know what you're talking about." (what the - ?! how can you not see this?!)
"look. half of his whiskers are gone!"
"well, we didn't do that." (WHAT THE - ?! who says that??)
"well i certainly didn't do it. when we brought him in this morning, he had whiskers!"
"well, we didn't cut his whiskers." (i want his whiskers back! give them to me NOW!)
well, see for yourself. the shaver-guy must have been on drugs. i nearly asked for a discount on account of his whiskers being shaved.